


Tell Instead a Made-Up Story from the World of Night

by universe



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Apocalypse, Gen, or something like it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-21
Updated: 2010-01-21
Packaged: 2017-10-10 11:26:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/99232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/universe/pseuds/universe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Cities fall and cities die, but she's not quite ready to let go.</i> In-between guns and bright red flashes, she breathes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell Instead a Made-Up Story from the World of Night

In-between guns and bright red flashes, she breathes.

Her breaths are laboured, short, as if her body knows every inhale might be the last. They have been at it for days now, it's another siege, almost like the first one, but harder, _worse_. They're all dying along with the city they are so determined to protect. She knows they won't be able to keep it up much longer, knows that the Replicators will enter the city soon enough, and once they do, all will be lost.

When days turn into weeks, they're scared of losing hope, but for now, they fight, and being together does the rest. They have no way of communicating with Earth, not anymore, they need every bit of energy the ZPM can muster for keeping up the shields. Their communications are wrecked as well, something to do with signals being jammed, and none of the scientist know how to fix it.

John prepares her for the possibility that they may not be able to save her precious Atlantis, but she waves him off. There will be no evacuation, no last-minute rescue, they've all been told, and they've run out of ideas long ago, so she figures there's no use for platitudes.

Another day goes by without her giving one of her famous speeches, and they're all starting to suspect she might not be stronger than the rest. Only the memory of how things were back when they'd first arrived keeps her alive and sane these days.

Cities fall and cities die, but she's not quite ready to let go.

In-between determination and fatigue, she fights.

John orders her to sleep, and she obeys, just barely, but she obeys. It's a dreamless sleep, and when she jerks awake to the sounds of an explosion (so close, too close), she's almost glad for the exhaustion. All the horrors she has to face; she doesn't want to have to see them during the night as well.

It's the willingness with which he gives in when she begs him to get some rest that tells her how tired he really is. He may be reckless, but he's not stupid, and he'd rather die than allow anything to happen to his team because he is too spent to function.

The city's starting to crumble, to blur around the edges, and so do the people in it. The panic is ebbing away, screams slowly trickling into silence; it almost looks like the people of Atlantis have made peace with their city's fate. If she had an ounce of energy left in her body, she'd talk some sense into them, or at least offer words of guidance, but the way things are, she just swallows the bitter taste of giving up, and struggles through another day.

It takes another week until their enemy is at the gate, and with the first pops of gunfire, she knows this will be their last shared act.

In-between storm and thunder, she breaks.

Atlantis is falling, again, and they are fighting with their lives for the only home they've ever had.

Teyla stumbles first, and goes down in a blaze of glory. (She'll be remembered as a hero, and yet, Elizabeth doesn't think it feels anything like in the movies.) Not much later, Ronon vanishes from sight, a gun in each hand, screaming and yelling and not coming back.

John's still fighting next to her, they're doing all they can to keep the Replicators from reaching Rodney. He's their last chance at getting out of this alive (or at least at getting _Atlantis_ out of this in one piece; it doesn't really matter either way).

She holds a gun now, too, because it would be foolish not to, and because there's nothing else to do. She pulls the trigger time and again, despite her insistence that she _never_ would. (Being on the verge of losing everything you love will change things, drastically.) So she shoots and shoots until she can't tell where her finger ends and where her gun begins.

John topples over to her right, and dies before he even hits the ground. When she gets shot just seconds later, her whole life doesn't flash before her eyes. She does see a few faces, but mostly, it's just white, and the feeling of being home. (It's something she never would have had again elsewhere, she knows.)

In-between breaths, she dies.

**##**

In-between breaths, she is reborn.

She doesn't know how or why or when, but in the distance, she hears Rodney yelp "It worked!", and then it all doesn't matter anymore because the Replicators are storming the city, _again_, and she knows exactly what to do this time to keep her team from failing. Everybody's doing their assigned part, and she's not even sure how, but in the end, with a few well-aimed shots from the anti-Replicator gun, they're suddenly, inconceivably… free.

There's the sound of sirens in her head, and she idly wonders why now of all times the sirens have been turned on, until she realises, they're not sirens at all. The cheers of those in the control room carries and it's not long until the whole expedition knows they've won. _Won_, against the Replicators, and she'll never let this triumph be forgotten.

The ruins are rebuilding themselves, and a city rises from the ashes. It's _Atlantis_, their home, and nothing has changed, even thought it feels like it _should_ have, with all they've now been through.

In-between repetition and recognition, she survives.

It has something to do with time travel and changing the future and frankly, she's too tired to even ask. It's an emotional exhaustion now, her veins are pumping adrenaline, but her head is swimming in a puddle of relief. The only thing she wants right now is sleep, and wake up to see another day.

She looks around for her people first, sees them disappear one by one, either dragged away to the infirmary by Carson or staggering off to their respective posts. A hand lands on her shoulder, and she's not surprised to find John still standing by her side (it's never been any other way, so why should it be different now?), and she almost smiles, the corners of her lips quirking up in a jerk that would be awkward if it wasn't _him_ and _them_ and being _alive_.

He tilts his head as if to nod, and neither of them says a word, not verbally. They've always had entire conversations without ever opening their mouths, and after a few moments, she nods back and allows herself to breathe.  
In-between survival and near-defeat, Atlantis stands.


End file.
